by Jenni James
I felt a twist and a slight jerk before the glass beads spilled all over the floor.
I’m such an idiot! This isn’t even my necklace!
He was supposed to have left by now. He’d already said goodbye to his friends. I watched as Gregory hovered in the doorway, obviously debating what to do. I decided I’d make it easier for him. I knelt on the floor and turned my back, completely ignoring him as I started to pick up the mess.
There. Now you can go. I don’t need you. I sighed at the thought of being such a klutz in front of him. Suddenly, I saw long, lean fingers close to my shorter ones, picking up beads. I glanced up at the top of Gregory’s blond head as he avoided looking at me. It had been years since I’d seen that head and those hands so close to my own.
What I expected least was the joy of having him so near. I’d anticipated misery and pain and awkwardness, but never joy. Since his return, I’d fully expected him to break my heart—a punishment I deserved.
Stunned into silence by my thoughts, I began to collect the beads again. This time I looked over and noticed that not only had Gregory placed the beads he’d collected into a pile, he’d also begun to organize them into groups of color and size.
Is he stalling? My heart began to race. Is he waiting for me to say something? He can’t be hoping to be next to me longer, since he hates me. Hasn’t he looked straight through me—as if I didn’t exist—during the entire party? We haven’t spoken one word to each other the whole night. Even when we were introduced, he just nodded and walked back to that girl. The beautiful brunette was, even now, waiting for him in the hall.
One blue glass bead. One green glass bead. One silver spacer bead. One . . .
“Thank you, Greg–Gregory.”
He looked up then, but he still didn’t meet my eyes.
I tried again. “You didn’t have to, but thank you anyway. It was very nice of you.” And more than I deserve.
He raised his head quickly as if my words shocked him, and his eyes finally met mine. My heart stopped. His deep, chocolate brown eyes set against blond hair and perfect features were as striking as I remembered. He was older, three years older. And extremely good-looking. Dang, he’s hot! my foolish heart whispered.
His eyes held mine far longer than my heart could handle, yet I didn’t want to look away. I couldn’t. I’d waited too long to see his incredible eyes again. Selfishly, I absorbed every moment he gave. There was so much I wish I could’ve said—so much I am sure he wouldn’t want to hear, but I let it be. I remained silent and allowed the moment of our first real meeting in years to overwhelm me. I lived in the moment—something I was chided for doing three years ago. Something I vowed I would never make the mistake of not doing again. Never again would I be persuaded to disobey my heart.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t frown. He just searched my eyes and said, “You’re welcome.”
His unfamiliar deep baritone jarred me. If I wasn’t frozen before, I was now. He spoke to me. He actually spoke to me!
I could see that he was very surprised. I realized that he must’ve broken some small vow to himself in that moment—probably a vow to never speak to me again.
Within seconds, he was standing again. He was going to leave, and there was nothing I could do to keep him next to me, nothing I could say. But I’d given that chance up long ago. He wasn’t, nor would he ever be, mine.
His tall form towered over me, and I watched as he adjusted his jacket. And then he was gone, his eyes never once wavering from the hallway, where the beautiful girl waited for him.
In silence I collected the last pieces of the borrowed necklace I’d been so eager to wear, the necklace that had always looked so pretty on my stepsister.
Then I fled the party. I had to get away before anyone saw me freak out.
In the privacy of my car, I allowed the full force of the pain and bitterness of the last three years to wash over me. How can I be foolish enough to love someone who I know has hated me for so long? And why did he come back? Why did he choose now—of all times—to disrupt my life? And why does he have to be so good-looking, too? I would’ve gladly taken him back, no matter what he looked like, but for him to be so gorgeous is torture.
No one recognized or remembered him but me. Why would they? He was older, more muscular than he’d been at fifteen. His hair was now cut shorter and swept off his face, and his dark, rectangle-framed glasses were gone. I missed his glasses. He also introduced himself as Gregory instead of Greg.
The new, improved Gregory was cheerfully welcomed into my so-called friends’ circle. Their eagerness to stake a claim at so fine a specimen reminded me of vultures circling their prey. The same girls that had gossiped about the awkward Greg and secretly mocked him, now gladly turned to Gregory with open arms.
It was rumored that his father had become very successful after leaving Farmington, New Mexico, and that Gregory’s family was now worth millions. They were millionaires, while my family, who used to spend our winters in Hawaii and our summers in Alaska, now had to learn to economize. Thanks to the economy and the recession, our investments and businesses were deteriorating, and our finances were nearly depleted.
My dad didn’t think I knew, but I had overheard him and my stepmom countless times, debating the great burden of debt that seemed to swallow us whole. Just last week, they’d announced we were going to move. My stepmom made up some pretense of having a difficult time keeping up such a large house, but I knew we didn’t have a choice. At least my parents were being smart about it. We’d all be better off with a smaller house that fit within our new budget.
But why did Gregory’s family have to buy our house, of all houses? That was the final blow. The house hadn’t even been on the market when the realtor called to arrange a showing while I was at school Thursday. Thank goodness I was at school! My dad had mentioned that a tall, good-looking guy had come to the showing with his parents. I probably would have fainted had I seen him then—would’ve thought I was hallucinating or something. How many times in the last three years had I wished I could see Gregory? But to have my wish granted now —to see him in my house because his parents were buying it—I couldn’t bear it. To have him sleeping in one of the bedrooms, or hanging out in the living room, or putting his feet up with a good book in the study—it was just too much.
“Amanda!”
I let out an involuntary shriek at the sound of my name and someone pounding on the passenger window of my car, which was still parked in front of Kylie’s house. I hadn’t driven away. I’d promised to help her clean up, and I would. I rolled down the window to hear her better.
“I thought you’d gone! What are you doing out here, anyway?”
I quickly put the warm beads, still clutched in my hand, into the pullout drawer beneath my stereo. “I—uh, I was just—”
“Oh, never mind,” she interrupted. “You’re coming in to help, aren’t you?’
“Yes, of course.” I hurriedly opened the car door and stepped out.
Kylie was still complaining. “Everyone else has gone already, you weirdo! What a funny thing to do. Only you would sit alone in your car at night, in the dark, when there was a party going on!”
Great, she’s in a mood. I followed her silently up the steps of her house and took the large, black trash bag she handed me.
“Well, here. Since you like being in the dark anyway, I assume you won’t mind cleaning up out here first.” She looked at me and then shook her head before opening the front door and waltzing in. “I’ll be inside. Hurry up, okay?”
“Okay,” I mumbled to an already-shut door. With another sigh, I surveyed the damage from our friends. I guess it could’ve been worse—it was mostly cans and wrappers everywhere. Kylie had thought it would be fun to have a piñata at the party. It was fun. But by the looks of it, most of the candy wrappers ended up outside. Relieved that I didn’t have to give Gregory another thought, I started to clean up. In no time at all, I was back in the house and picking trash in
there, too.
Kylie’s parents had one rule when it came to throwing a party in their house. If Kylie threw a party, she had to clean it up. That meant she wasn’t allowed to leave any of it for the cleaning lady who came by Monday through Saturday. I don’t think Kylie had ever thrown a party where I wasn’t there beforehand to help set up, and still there afterwards to help clean up.
“So, you lucky girl, tell me all about it.”
“What?” I turned around. She was wearing an apron and looked positively gorgeous in it, like a model for one of those Pillsbury commercials on TV. “Tell you all about what?” I stared at her in confusion. Did I miss something?
“Hello? About Gregory Wentworth. Do you think I’m blind?”
Does she know? I decided to stall a bit. “Blind?” My heart began to race.
Kylie rolled her eyes. “Come on, the hottest guy here tonight totally comes to your rescue, and you can’t even say anything about it?”
Oh! “Uh, yeah. He’s really nice.”
“Nice? You mean nice looking, right?”
“That too.”
“Amanda! You were closer to him than anyone else at the party tonight. I want details, girl! Weren’t you just totally freaking out? Did he say anything to you?”
“No, nothing really.”
“Ugh! Only you would totally waste an opportunity like that. No offense, but seriously, girl, if he had helped me with my necklace, he would’ve had my phone number by the time he stood up. I don’t care who he came with!”
I smiled weakly. Her words hurt more than I think she’d intended them to.
“Did he say who that girl was? I heard from someone that she was from Bloomfield.”
“No, he didn’t say anything.” I leaned over and tossed a soda can in the trash bag.
“Well, I’ll just have to find out who she is.”
I glanced up just as Kylie flipped her hair and folded her arms. The look on her face spoke volumes.
I was worried. “Are you going to break them up or something?”
“First, let’s see if they’re going out. I don’t want to do something drastic if I don’t have to.”
I lowered my eyes a minute before smiling bravely. “So, you think he’ll go for you? Do you think he likes you?”
“If he doesn’t, yet, I promise you, he will.”
I nodded my head. She’s right. I mean, what guy could resist Kylie Russell? What guy would want to?
“Can you believe it? Gregory’s a multi-millionaire! And he’s moving here, of all places.” She laughed. “To think I thought this summer was going to be boring!”
I attempted a chuckle. This summer? This summer will most likely prove to be painful. Horrible. Awkward. But it won’t be boring.
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